


About an agent and his quartermaster

by Doralice, Fusterya



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Finger Sucking, Fingering, Hand & Finger Kink, Jame Bond stares a lot, M/M, Rough Sex, Wedding Night, Wedding Rings, more or less, some kind of fluff, top from the bottom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 05:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1375609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doralice/pseuds/Doralice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fusterya/pseuds/Fusterya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of small, sweet, dirty stories about James and Q.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some double-oh agents marry their quartermasters. Get over it.

\- Mine… you're my mine, from now and forever. -

James' voice is like a dangerous purr.

\- Say it. -

\- Yours… now and ever… -

Another thrust, another dense glance. Q can’t help but cries out and squirms on James' cock. He clutches the bedsheets, trembling, whimpering loudly without shame.

\- Hush, love. -

James grabs his chin with the left hand, smoothing gently his reddened lips and tucking two fingers in his mouth. Middle and annular.

Q can feel the cold metal of his wedding ring just pressed on his lips. And that’s too much.

Head thrown back, Q comes hard, jerking himself frantically, while his husband keeps to thrust deep inside. So deep. Splitting him in pleasure and pain and love.

 


	2. What James likes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When James Bond fucks his Quartermaster, is not gentle.  
> He doesn’t do it on purpose, he just can’t do it in a different way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is my first time in english. God help me!  
> Fusterya)

When James Bond fucks his Quartermaster, is not gentle.  
He doesn’t do it on purpose, he just can’t do it in a different way.  
He forgets all the double-oh stuff, made of etiquette-flirting-foreplay, or light touches on the neck and intense looks that suggest untold scenarios to come.  
On the job, all this works.  
It’s a kind of code that he has built over the years, which creates a perfect tension in his victims and makes them languish in expectation .  
He is always polite, a gentleman, from the first contact until he slams them against the mattress .  
Not that he is a cold man, it’s quite the opposite, in fact: he knows what he can do with his hands, his voice… he knows how to make things so passionate but without seeping the fiction; he also knows how to place the right questions, asking them with mellow whispers in responsive ears, while turning and holding the body-of-the-day against his and slowly penetrating it with a long, lascivious motion of the pelvis, until he feels the flesh tremble in his arms and hears his partner turn to pieces very slowly, with no possibility of salvation.  
But with Q it’s all different.  
First of all because he is a man.  
His one and only.  
And, as a man, he can bear a little bit of roughness, can he.  
And second thing, the most important, is that when he makes love to Q, he wants to do it with all his body and mind.  
His flesh demands it. He needs it like food and water .  
It’s his outburst, the one belonging to his own nature, not disguised as anything else and reached in his own way, at his proper time.  
That's why, when James grabs Q for the waistline and drags him to sit on his lap - and the headboard of the bed is hard against his back - he does it sharply: he graps his arms around Q’s torso so tightly that Q exhales all the air from lungs with a long hiss and plants fingers in James’ biceps, because it becomes difficult to expand the rib cage again to breathe.  
This, before laughing .  
James laughs with him, his tongue trapped between the teeth in a focused and a little crazy look, and then he lifts him up as if Q weighed nothing, even if it is not true, and the veins on his forearms, to which Q is anchored with long thin fingers, swell for the labour.  
Then James lowers Q on his groin, not so slowly because he wants to hear him whine and wants to stare at that cherry red mouth that opens wide because of the overwhelming feeling.  
Q’s arms tighten around his neck and the hands of James - almost trembling hands - slip behind Q 's back and grab those round and firm buttocks, and then they squeeze them, open them, because Q has to take him inside as deeply as possible .  
James moans when this happens. As if he’s suffering for some unknown pain.  
"If this is so annoying to you... " pants Q "maybe you should stop, old man ... "  
"If this hurts you so much... " he replies, gasping and pushing him down " … maybe you should play other games, kid ... "  
Q throws his head back and moans in a way that could to tear away James’ skin, all of it.  
That's where he begins to pump.  
He sticks to Q, literally: teeth gritted and face pressed to the base of his thin and hot neck, and then grunts while he fucks him from below.  
With his hands clasped on Q’s buttocks, he follows through the frantic pace that Q sets, knowing what James likes, and also knowing that soon enough James will raise him again and will turn him on his back like a twig on the mattress, climbing above him: because James likes to come while he is on top, eye to eye, feeling the cold air on his sweaty back and watching as Q surrenders almost helpless beneath him, even if he is not helpless at all.  
Sometimes it ends like this, with James smiling fiercely while Q clasps his arms and legs to the powerful body that is wrecking him: and then, usually, Q is coming first, overwhelmed by the incessant rubbing of James’ abdomen against his aching cock.  
Sometimes, however, James can’t help himself and doesn’t allow Q to finish too soon: he straights his back and grabs his young lover by the legs, folding him, and says things like “come on, pet, open up… let me see…” and he actually lingers on... and looks.  
Looks at the tender white of Q’s inner thighs, stroking with ravenous hands the smooth and sweaty skin, and then caresses the dark hair of the groin and his palms cup the tender scrotum and the firmness of his erect penis .  
James stares.  
Looks right there, where his body and Q’s are joined, while he disappears in the warm tightness of that perfect arse; he gazes as his dick slips and slides in and out of the pink ring of small muscles that tighten around his flesh, and the echoes of the sounds Q makes, penetrate into his brain.  
He stares as the lean and toned torso beneath him writhes and buckles and Q exposes the wiry neck, his head thrown back and all the fingers clutching the sheets. James rolls his balls in one hand and rubs his wet penis with the other one.  
He looks how Q is his. Totally .  
The way he is completely open for him and at his mercy .  
And then a rush of blood hits his brain all at once, and he thrusts three, four, five more times as deeply as he can and comes with a hoarse cry, liberating, while his whole body trembles.  
Then he leans forward and embraces himself on his hands and knees for a few seconds to catch some air: Q looks at him breathless and full of curiosity, knowing that pretty much soon James will find an original way to take care of him.  
When James slips out of him Q feels almost cold, but he hasn’t the time to get used to the new situation because the sudden absence of James’ cock is replaced abruptly by three fingers.  
Q gasps. James soothes him placing one hand on his belly and leaning a bit with part of his weight.  
"Touch yourself. "  
Q accomplishes.  
He closes the palm of an hand around his erection, which now is almost painful, and jerks his cock lasciviously, with long, voluptuous strokes, in perfect sync with the fingers of James which are penetrating him powerfully, slipping easily through the come that still fills his hole.  
The moans of Q makes are now convulsive sobs .  
James stares at him with his tongue between his teeth and a wild look on his face, because he believes that he have never seen anything like this - so hot and beautiful - in his entire life, and for someone like him is something truly peculiar to say .  
“Let go, love... god, I should have done this earlier, before fucking you... let go, do it for me ... christ!”  
James curls his fingers, feeling moisture and heat.  
Q arches on the matress, sucks his breath and then remains motionless for a moment before shaking and spurting his hot semen on his own hand and stomach, moaning oh so loudly.  
James leans over him and kisses him greedily to inhale his heavy breath and the remnants of his whimpers.  
“That’s my boy… My good, good boy...” he murmurs on Q’s lips with a hoarse voice, while Q still has eyes closed and lashes flickering and the half-open mouth that seeks oxygen and balance.  
Only after a while James slips off his fingers from him, watching as Q frowns and hisses through his teeth at the sensation.  
Now they will lay there, in silence, between soft and lazy kisses that imply the most significant words in this world.  
Half an hour and James will take him again, in a different way. Or maybe the other way round, who knows.  
Because is not enough, is never enough, and he isn’t still capable to give a name to this thing they have… frankly, he’s not sure he needs to do such a thing, not if Q smiles at him like that, with beautiful green eyes softned by the sweet haze after love, and makes him understand what he already knows from the very beginning.


End file.
